


Outlines and kisses from silver screens

by a_cup_of_tea_and_a_good_book



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: #captain swan, #cs everything, #cs ff, #cs fluff, #cs smuff, #cs smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_cup_of_tea_and_a_good_book/pseuds/a_cup_of_tea_and_a_good_book
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of one-shots and drabbles filled with captain swan goodness. Note: I always love me some fluff! Ratings vary (mature content rated in each mature chapter)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quiet moments

Honestly, I have no idea where this came from, but I really needed to write something so fluffy. Rated M because, well, smuff.

* * *

 

It's days like this that they don't want to go out and lose the comfort of the simple things. Days when

rain

droplets tap against the window and create a sweet melody that accompanies their every move. Days when they can snuggle in the couch in front of the fireplace just listening to the soft crackling of the firewood burning and feel the warmth slowly seep in. Days when she only wears his shirt, so big on her that it reaches a spot a few inches down her thighs, and she can smell the warm scent of spice and Killian sinking into her skin. Days when he only wears his new sweatpants she bought him and lets her enjoy the view of his perfectly lean muscles as he walks around. Killian wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles in Emma's golden hair as she pours hot chocolate in two mugs, topping it with a soft whipped cream foam, which lightly melts when it meets the hot liquid and sprinkling generous dashes of cinnamon on top.

She shivers when he doesn't grant her the space to move, hand and hook resting at both sides next to her on the counter. She simply turns around and gives him a bright grin before she opens her mouth, the can of whipped cream approaching and then spraying a little heap of whipped cream, which she savors slowly. She shuffles forward and then her hands are cradling Killian's face, thumbs caressing his cheeks and she brushes her lips against his, feeling his breath hitching when she does. She tastes sweet from the cream and spicy from all the cinnamon and he can't help tugging her closer, getting better access as his tongue finds hers and a slight moan reverberates from her chest.

It's all about the quiet moments and this is a quiet moment, a single word replaying in Emma's mind as Killian raises her in his arms and gently places her on the kitchen table, his lips still against hers, sucking at her lower lip and worrying it between his teeth.

Mine.

Because he is hers and he always has been. She just didn't see it at first, or just didn't want to see it; but her walls are down now and all she can think about is how his hand is playing with the ends of her hair and his hook is gently resting against the small of her back. She finds that she can't imagine her life without him anymore, waking up in an empty bed without his strong arms around her and the warmth of his body pressing against hers, strolling outside without his fingers laced with hers, fighting villains without his stupid attempts to protect her despite the fact that he usually creates bigger mess this way. He has become such a big part of her life and she knows how dangerous this is, but she can't bring herself to care anymore.

She slowly pulls away first, resting her forehead against his, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she mutters something about the cocoa getting cold and she hears his muffled chuckle as his eyes flutter open, too blue orbs staring into hers. Sometimes she doesn't even know what she did to deserve the way he looks at her, the deep love every intense gaze and burning touch illustrate. She twines her fingers with his, her other hand curling around the curve of his hook as her gaze locks with his. Her lips curl up in a small grin to mimic his and her heart stutters in her chest for a moment.

"I love you." She whispers, her eyes genuine as she speaks and she is surprised by Killian's incredulous look when she tells him. He stands still for a moment, as if he can't believe he heard right and then his hand is snaking up to her chin, slightly pulling it upwards as he shifts even closer.

"Say it again." He whispers and her heart begins a broken staccato in her chest, as she takes in the pure happiness drawn on his face, like he has been living all his life to hear these three little words fall from her lips and she can't stand it. It is too much and all the emotions are drowning her, because how can he be real?

"I love you." She repeats and his lips are back against hers, his hand moving to the hem of her-his- shirt and pulling it higher, over her head, letting it fall on the floor beside them. A shiver runs down her spine as she feels the cold of the kitchen in her flesh and then the hair of his chest against her bare skin. She needs him, her calmness giving in to a hungry craving she can see mirrored in his eyes, turning darker and darker as heat pools low in her belly and all she can do is wrap her legs around his waist and thrust her hips against his, finding him incredibly hard beneath the soft material of his sweatpants.

His mouth is trailing a wet path down her neck, settling between the swell of her breasts, her back arching toward him and-fuck-slow can wait because right now she needs and she can't wait anymore, can't stand the way he teases her, a deep growl coming out of her.

"Killian…" she whimpers and she takes advantage of the slight movement he makes to look up at her to pull him up as her hands move to his pants and impatiently draw them down. Her motions still falter a little when he buries himself in her and it feels too much and not enough at the same time. He lays her flat on the table, his warm body covering hers and protecting her from the increasingly cold temperature of the house as she meets every deep thrust of his hips into hers.

His eyes are burning into hers and she can see how much he needed to hear her finally express how she felt about him. The intimacy doesn't scare her anymore, nor did it ever when it came to Killian, because Emma actually began to search for it every time they were together and it became something she couldn't stand to live without. It doesn't take too long for her to lose control, her sight blurring as she arches her back and hips up and she almost lifts off the table as her walls clench around him and she comes hard, taking him along with her, their moans ripping the silence of the empty house and the sound of the rain against the window.

"I've always loved you, Emma." Killian has collapsed on top of her when she hears him mumble the words into her shoulder and her breath is still unsteady, but she finds the strength to huff a small chuckle. She never believed in happiness and finding a true connection, but she found it and it all seems too good to be true, but it is and the bliss of knowing that is priceless.

They somehow manage to slip their few clothes on and Emma somehow manages to warm their mugs of actually cold cocoa in the microwave, before they end up in the couch again, under a big cocoon of blankets, staring at what is left of the fire. She is enclosed in Killian's cozy embrace, sipping at her hot chocolate when she feels him press a feather-light kiss in the crown of her head and she can swear in this moment that she has never felt more loved and cherished in her life.

—Fin

 


	2. Ice melts

Well, once more my fluffy side showed up and I couldn't help it. 4.06 was not that inspiring and it's already Sunday morning, but well, what the heck, I wrote half of this yesterday and I wanted to upload before the new episode. Have all the fluff people! (Rating: T bordering towards M)

* * *

 

She knew he loved her. Sometimes she could just feel him express it, even wordlessly and, if she wanted to be honest with herself, she knew why. He was waiting for her and despite how she wanted to tell him that she felt the same, that she loved him too, that she has never felt anything more real and strong, she still hesitated. Her walls were still up and she knew herself well enough -once broken, always broken. Nevertheless, she could feel him show his love in so many ways. The way he would twine his fingers with hers and rub small circles against her knuckles with his thumb, how he caressed her chin and cheek before he kissed her, oh how he kissed her.

Sometimes it was slow and deep, filled with emotion and she would make out every bit of soul he would give to that kiss. She would feel that shiver running down her spine and the stutter of her heart in her chest, her breath catching in her throat along with that little lump of emotions, almost suffocating her with love.

(And she didn't mind the intimacy)

(And it started becoming something she looked for)

(And it was perfect)

Other times it was hungry and passionate and it could practically take her breath away. Make her heart beat a bruising staccato in her chest, so strong and loud she could actually hear it ringing in her ears. She would get so absorbed into the kiss; it was hard to get out, drowning in how his tongue moved against hers as his fingers anchored in the ends of her hair, lightly pulling.

(And it rarely ended up being just a kiss)

(And he would always press her against any surface close to them)

(And she would always forget how to breathe)

Finally, there were the times when they had no time and he would just peck a little kiss on her cheek or the small grin of her lips, just a quick press and she would think about it all day. Only because of the spicy taste he left against her lips, only because of the memory of his warm breath against her cheek, always like a sweet caress.

(And she would not be able to concentrate for the entire day)

(And she would think of that kiss and shiver)

(And she would touch her lips like she could still feel his against them)

There was also how he looked at her when he made love to her (because there were the times when they were not just having sex). How his too blue eyes would lock with hers, pupils blown wide, and just burn into her eyes as he emptied himself in her, along with everything that is him and his love for her. His gaze would intense and strong and sometimes it was too much.

(It was never enough)

(And she couldn't find it humanly possible to look away)

His movements were gentler and more thorough then. His hands and lips exploring her entire body as her breath would quicken and her heart would feel as if it was going to explode. His lips against hers soft, but firm, his tongue fighting for domination over her mouth, her name falling from his lips like a prayer and everything feeling too good to be true. But they were and Emma Swan was finally loved.

(And she loved him too with her fingers pressing into his back)

(And she loved him too with her lips pressing soft kisses on his lips, neck and shoulder)

So now, all she could see was him laying on the ground, gradually turning into an ice sculpture, his pained expression when the ice queen struck him with her magic still replaying in her mind. He sacrificed himself to save her son, pushing him to the side and taking the hit instead, falling down on his knees in an instant when the blinding flash of ice hit him. The snow-bitch was not after Emma, she was after everyone she loved and she had made that pretty clear. She knew true love's kiss was the only way to save him, but what if it didn't work? What if their love was not strong enough? What if it was not true?

She kept shaking his body fiercely, trying to wake him, begging him to come back to her, desperately screaming his name. (She knew there was no use in doing that, but she was too afraid of what would kissing him and not bringing him back mean) Nothing happened, his eyes shut, his body too still. She finally made her decision, it was either let the ice get to his heart or try the kiss. No matter what.

("Don't rip out my heart, Emma" he pleaded before he fully fell on the floor with a thud)

She bowed her head down, resting her forehead against his.

"I love you and I know you love me too. You said you excelled at surviving. You promised, so you'd better come back to me, Hook." She whispered before she slowly moved to press her lips against his, her heart hammering against her chest.

(Because if it didn't work she wouldn't make it)

(Because the idiot had really gotten under her skin)

(Because her walls are only down when he is around)

It started as a tingling feeling in the palms of her hands which were pressing hard into the place of his chest where his heart was beating –too slowly, but still beating. Then it gradually spread to the rest of her body, finally locking in her lips. There was light and something she perceived as an explosion of feelings and then there was nothing. She opened her eyes and found two tired blue orbs staring back at her and let out a loud sigh of relief, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

(And her heart almost stopped to the beautiful sight of him simply breathing)

(And she didn't know who to thank for the bliss of not having lost him)

"Told you, Swan. You can't get rid of me that easily." Killian joked, his soft cackle turning into a faint cough as he tried to sit up, not really able to get on his feet yet and Emma couldn't help but pull him in his arms, squeezing him tightly. Her hands cradled his head and another sigh escaped her lips when she felt his warm breath in the crook of her neck. She pulled him against her lips, kissing him once more, this time more hungrily.

(Because he was there)

(Because she could)

"You scared me so much." Was all she could whisper, forehead resting against his, noses nuzzling together and gazes locked, making her breath hitch in her throat and her heart miss a beat. She felt him grin against her lips, pecking a small kiss there once more before pulling back and looking at her.

"I love you, Emma."

"I love you too, you idiot."

—Fin

 


	3. Bliss

Okay, so this kinda slipped out of me, I couldn't help it. Really sweet cocoa-drinking, snowing-day fluff. Idk I guess I really needed to write something like this today. Hope you like it!

* * *

 

It's cold. It's too cold, but it doesn't matter a wee bit. Tiny snowflakes slowly fall, adorning the glass window, leaving just a tiny little gap to see the silver grey color of the sky. Fire is crackling in the fireplace, a thorough warmth seeping into their skins as the room becomes comfily warmer. The peacefulness of the morning is relaxing, therapeutic and leaves the space to think and realize what life is all about.

Emma is wearing one of Killian's shirts again, too big on her, reaching a spot just a couple of inches down her thigh, the collar revealing a small patch of the creamy skin of her neck and shoulder. Wavy hair falling freely down her shoulders and bright emerald eyes shining, she stops at her steps, a mug of hot cocoa with cinnamon in her hand, just to stare at the sight before her.

Killian is lying on the couch, a big fluffy blanket covering him up and promising warmth for when she curls up in his arms later. His right arm is raised to rest his head on the palm of his hand, disheveled raven hair stick up just a little bit, his handsome face looking even more dashing-or devilishly handsome, isn't that it?-. She presses her weight against the wall, arms folded in front of her, still scrutinizing the dream of the most striking man in her couch. His eyes are closed as he waits for her, covering up the beautiful light blue orbs she loves so much under long dark eyelashes. His lips, light pink and delightful, lightly pressed together, looking so welcoming to press hers against them, are curled up in a sweet grin. Slight scruff is embellishing the sides of his face, making him mysteriously stunning. His body, strong and lean, is positioned right beneath the soft blanket and he seems so young and serene at this moment. His bliss is apparent and she can't help the stutter of her heart in her chest.

She shuffles closer; snuggling beneath the blanket and into his embrace and a big goofy simper is instantly drawn on her face. If someone asked her what happiness is like she would finally know what to answer now. Happiness is how his eyes flutter open to gaze back into hers, how he sits up and curls into the corner of the couch to hold her more steadily, how he takes a little sip from her cocoa and then leans in to capture her lips with his. A sweet, loving kiss she needs to confirm all this is in fact real.

(And it is real)

(And for the first time in her life she wishes it never has to end)

He tastes like chocolate and cinnamon, the scent of rum and spice still there though, the representative scent of him. When they pull apart and she nuzzles further in his chest he presses his lips into the crown of her head and stays there for a while. This isn't too much, it's nearly not enough. Her hand moves on its own volition to twine her fingers with his and lightly squeeze and she can feel his lips turn up into a grin against her hair as he clutches her hand tightly.

"You think this could be forever?" she asks, her voice a slight whisper breaking the silence of the room.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, love."

Then his hand is caressing her cheek as he draws her face higher, gazes locking together and his lips are back against hers, feather light and soft.

(Yeah, this is bliss)

(And it will last forever)

—Fin

 


	4. Gingerbread and cinammon

Okay, but with Christmas upon us, did you really think I wouldn’t write christmasy fluff?

“So, is this another tradition of yours?”

When Killian walks into the loft he spots Emma and Henry occupied in the kitchen, her parents contentedly watching them with baby Neal in their arms. She is wearing an adorable Christmas apron, simple, with a red and white striped pattern and a fluffy green bow wrapped around the waist and she perfectly reminds him of these sugary canes she showed him a couple of days ago. What were they called,  _peppermint candy_? Her blond hair is gathered up in a high ponytail in the back of her hair and she is working on a brown short of dough on the counter along with her son, cutting out little dough-people with some short of silver contraption shaped like a tiny man.

The entire house smells like cinnamon and the spicy scent seems to be fitting the seasonal decoration of the house. He still doesn’t understand the purpose of having a tree in one’s house and 

decorating

 it with all these lights and ornaments, but it doesn’t look that bad in this moment combined with everything else in the cozy atmosphere and  _come on Killian it’s beautiful, it took me so long to decorate!_ So he walks over to her with a silly simper. She seems so blissful, bright green eyes shining, cheeks adorably flushed, a slight dust of flour on the corner of her jaw and his heart lights up with the broad grin on her face.

“Well, yeah and you are going to love it, I promise. There’s another batch of cookies in the oven right now and, once I’m done with these, we can decorate them. Here, take this.” She hands him another apron and he scoffs at that for a moment, but she wants them to do something together, so he eventually takes it and puts it on, or at least he tries. Emma notices his struggle and lets Henry work on the cookies so that she can walk right behind him and tie up the strings in the back. For a moment, she pulls back, her eyes studying him, a little giggle escaping her lips.

“Go ahead, Swan, laugh. I am aware of how ridiculous I look at the moment.” He sighs and her laughter echoes in the room.

“No, I’m sorry I just… I never thought I’d see the infamous Captain Hook wearing a Santa apron in my kitchen.” And her smile softens, something more affectionate in her eyes this time. “But is it wrong that I love it?” she says and before he gets to reply her lips are lightly pecking his, pressing a feather light kiss there. He can see Henry rolling his eyes with the corner of his eyes, but he can’t help grinning before she clutches his hand dragging him with her and passes him a bag of frosting. She moves to remove the freshly baked gingerbread cookies from the oven and when she places the other tray in their place, she returns by his side.

“So m’boy, you like cooking as your mother does?” Killian asks Henry and he can see Emma quietly observing the conversation with a smirk.

“Well, first of all I don’t think my mom likes to cook. Besides, it’s not that much that I enjoy making the cookies, as much eating them in the end, plus, it’s tradition…” he replies with a little shrug and a grin and Killian ruffles his hair with his good hand.

“Hey! I can cook…” Emma fakes an offended look at her son’s comment and they all laugh when she furrows her brow and moves to take out the cookies from the tray and place them on a cookie sheet on the counter.

They spend the rest of the evening decorating the little gingerbread-men-cookies, different colors and textures of frosting eventually covering them up. Killian is a quick learner so his creations end up being better and more exquisite than Emma’s so she pretends to look annoyed, but he can see how she glows with happiness. Henry gives up at some point, just making a few cookies and then he takes a couple and offers them to his grandparents, before he starts chewing on some more. He then turns around and gives one to Killian too.

“You know the most fun part is eating, not adding the frosting.” That’s when he realizes, he had never really spent much time with family in his three-century life and this moment is the closest he has ever had to a family moment. With real family in an actual bloody home -not his, but still a home-. A large smile is drawn on his face as Henry turns around and he notices how Emma looks at him from her corner on the kitchen counter.

“What?” he speaks as he approaches her, hand with the cookie and hook resting loosely on her waist.

“Nothing…just pointlessly gazing.” She replies, her little chuckle coming out a bit choked out as her index finger moves to the corner of his lips to sweep off a dot of cookie icing. She moves it to her mouth and presses a little kiss on his cheek before she leaves his almost-embrace.

Later, when it’s just the two of them curled up in her parents’ couch, hot chocolate with cinnamon in Emma’s hand, he can brush small kisses in the crook of her neck and shoulder and she turns to look at him.

“So, I guess you are a Christmas person after all.” she murmurs against his lips which have already sneaked their way against hers. She smells like cinnamon and gingerbread and his heart squeezes to the genuine glee of having her in his arms.

“Only when I’m with you, love. Only when I’m with you.” He breathes before his tongue meets her in a slow dance.

(And he could swear for a moment that he saw a little flicker of white light and felt a slight tingle of magic against his lips.)

—Fin


End file.
